


Lightening

by geekmama



Series: Time of the Season [15]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Humor, Pregnancy, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-28
Updated: 2017-03-28
Packaged: 2018-10-12 08:21:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10486422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geekmama/pseuds/geekmama
Summary: “The complications that can develop in the last trimester are nothing to laugh about!” Sherlock snapped. “If you had read--”“If youhadn’tread that bloody library of medical literature you’d be a much happier man,” John snapped right back.





	

**Author's Note:**

> For the 'Lightening' prompt from [Live Journal's sherlock100 table of prompts](http://sherlock100.livejournal.com/profile). 
> 
> I think they actually meant 'Lightning', since the prompts around it are weather-based, but on googling the word 'Lightening', this definition came up, which proved much more inspiring...
> 
> **light·en·ing - noun - a drop in the level of the uterus during the last weeks of pregnancy as the head of the fetus engages in the pelvis. Breathing becomes easier, eating a full meal becomes more comfortable.**   
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“Well, this has been remarkably pleasant.” John smiled, looking about him, breathing in the fresh air. They were standing before a pretty country cottage, well-kept flower garden in front and a wide lawn in the back that rose gently to the edge of green, wooded hills. 

Lestrade chuckled. “Quite a change from the London squalor we usually get for a crime scene. I appreciate you two taking the time to come all the way out here. Why, it’s bloody halfway to your mum and dad’s house, isn’t it, Sherlock? You should buy the place! It’ll be up for sale in no time and it’ll go for a song, what with the murder and all -- poor old lady. But you and the missus wouldn’t mind that.” 

“It’s certainly something to consider,” Sherlock muttered, but he was distracted by a sudden buzzing and the few phrases from his own violin composition that constituted Molly’s text alert. He pulled out his mobile, and both John and Greg were dismayed to see his eyes widen and the color fade from his cheeks as he took in the message. “We’ve got to go. _Now!_ ” he said, and strode off through the cheery garden toward the car.

 

*

 

“Let me see it!” John insisted, once the three of them were in the back seat and barrelling along at top speed toward London, Sherlock having effectively communicated the urgency of the situation to the driver, a young NSY officer. 

Sherlock handed his phone to John with seeming reluctance. 

With good reason. “Sherlock, she’s fine!” John protested, having read Molly’s text.

 

**He’s engaged!!!! Omg I can BREATHE!!!! - MHxxxx**

 

Lestrade read it, too, and laughed. “Good for her! She’s a little bit of a thing, probably been pretty uncomfortable for the last few weeks. That’s a big boy she’s carrying, Sherlock.” 

“The complications that can develop in the last trimester are nothing to laugh about!” Sherlock snapped. “If you had read--” 

“If you _hadn’t_ read that bloody library of medical literature you’d be a much happier man,” John snapped right back. “It’s a wonder you haven’t driven her mad with your armchair advice and diagnoses these last six months.” 

“Preparation is always the key to a successful outcome,” Sherlock growled, “and as a first time father it was plainly my duty to become informed.” 

“Huh,” said Lestrade. “I can see your point. Deb would certainly have been happier with me if I hadn’t been so bloody clueless when our first came along. But that was years ago and I was just starting to advance in the force. No time, really.” 

He sounded so wistful at this last that John braced himself, and sure enough Sherlock’s reaction was completely as expected. 

“You see!” he exclaimed, grabbing back his mobile and stuffing it in his pocket. “Molly appreciates that I’m involved. And I am determined not to be caught out if there is an emergency.” 

“ _There is no emergency!_ She’s doing fine, and she’ll do fine at the birth, she’s fit and knowledgeable, and you know she’ll have the best care in the world.” 

But Sherlock looked even paler than he had before, and pressed his lips together for a moment, turning to stare out the window. Finally he said, his voice tight, “She’s thirty-eight, John. You know that puts her at much greater risk.” 

John turned to Lestrade, a silent plea in his eyes, but Greg only shook his head, lips quirking. “Best give it up, mate.” 

John sighed and laid his head back against the seat, his eyes rolling heavenward.

 

*

 

They reached Barts in record time, and Sherlock, who’d been fairly quivering for the last twenty minutes, leapt from the car and strode into the building, his Belstaff billowing dramatically. The exasperated John and amused Greg followed quickly after him, neither intending to miss a moment of the encounter. John was determined to act as a buffer between the prospective parents -- Molly had not yet lost patience with her anxious spouse, but this might be the last straw -- and Greg already had his mobile out to record the moment for posterity. Down into the familiar depths they rushed, Sherlock eschewing the lift in favor of the stairs, then quickly along the long passageway, ignoring Stamford’s questioning greeting as they passed his office But when they finally reached the doors of the mortuary, Sherlock and the others came to an abrupt, panting halt. Molly was just visible through the glass window, safety mask lifted to allow for some note taking, doing her job as on any other day, except that she now wore a somewhat larger lab coat to accommodate young Master Holmes’ temporary quarters. The world’s only consulting detective stared at her through the window for a long moment, obviously trying to pull himself together. 

“What’s going on?” Mike Stamford asked, trotting up behind them. 

“Sherlock’s just bein’ a git, as per usual,” Greg told him with a grin. 

Sherlock suddenly rounded on them, slightly less pale, looking absolute daggers at Greg, who quickly wiped the smile from his face, then at both John and the puzzled Stamford. Then he turned and pushed through the doors. The other three followed immediately, and even John was tempted to laugh at this point. 

Molly looked over at the sound of the doors opening, and a brilliant smile lit her pretty face. 

Pregnancy suited her, John thought, with some satisfaction. She had that lovely _glow_ about her. 

“Sherlock!,” she exclaimed, delighted, yet surprised. “I thought… what is it? Why are you all here? I thought the murder was out in the wilds of Bedford!” 

Sherlock visibly resisted the urge to catch her up in a fierce embrace. “It… it was. We’re… uh… back. You’re alright, then?” 

Molly closely studied her husband’s expression. “I am. I told you I was. Didn’t you get my text?” 

“Yeees,” Sherlock slowly admitted, looking her over from head to foot. 

“You didn’t reply.” She frowned. “Sherlock, you didn’t--” 

“Freak out?” said Lestrade. 

“Panic like the bloody Drama Queen he is?” John added. 

Mike said, “What’s there to panic about? She’s been fine -- and she works in a _hospital!_ ” 

Sherlock was beginning to realize what an idiot he’d been, chagrin creeping over his face. He started to speak. “I--” 

But Molly cut him off with a tender, “Sherlock!” and moved to embrace him, swiftly handing her safety mask to Mike and the clipboard and pen to John. 

Greg engaged the camera on his mobile, grinning happily. 

The two seemed oblivious to their audience for some time. Eventually, Greg stopped filming, John and Mike looked at each other with increasing discomfort, and then, finally, the lovebirds ended their embrace. They still retained each others’ hands, though, and gazed at each other in a thoroughly besotted manner. 

“Will you pick up some takeaway from Angelo’s for us?” Molly said, her soft voice making it sound like the most romantic request in the world. “Since you’ll be home early. I’ll be another hour here, at least.” 

“Of course,” said Sherlock. “Or I can wait here for you, and we can both go -- eat at the restaurant, perhaps, if you’re up to it. Angelo would enjoy seeing you. And I can tell you about Bedford. The victim had the prettiest property. I think you’d like it.” 

“Live away from Baker Street?” Molly said, teasingly. 

“Only on the weekends! There’s a vast lawn in the back, perfect for all sorts of games and recreation. Room for a few beehives, too, if we were so inclined.” 

“You’ll have to show me. Perhaps we can go up on Thursday morning.” 

“If you’re feeling well enough,” Sherlock said, looking a bit uncertain again. 

“I told you, I feel wonderful!” Molly said, smiling up at him. “I can _breathe!_ ” 

As Sherlock took her in his arms once more, Mike jerked his head toward the door, and he, John, and Greg made a discreet exit. 

Out in the hall, John asked Greg, “Are you going to post that video?” 

“Nah,” said Greg. “Think I’ll just keep it to look at when I get down in the dumps about my own love life. And for young Master Holmes, when he’s ready for such things.” 

John grinned. “You’re a good man, Lestrade.” 

“Amen,” said Mike, smiling. 

“As are we all, lads,” Greg said, with a nod back at the scene they’d just left. “As are we _all_.”

 

~.~

 


End file.
